


you don't have to run anymore

by howyoubrewing



Series: skyguy and snips [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Friendship, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, not anisoka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howyoubrewing/pseuds/howyoubrewing
Summary: Ahsoka is tired of sleepless nights and still feeling hunted. Post-Wasskah/Trandoshans/Padawan Lost arc.
Series: skyguy and snips [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932007
Comments: 3
Kudos: 113





	you don't have to run anymore

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in a while, and first one on A03! I'm excited and I hope you like it.  
> I think this is a conversation Anakin and Ahsoka should've had in the aftermath of Padawan Lost, because that was a freaking traumatic few episodes for our girl.

For the life of her, Ahsoka just can’t relax.

After being hunted for sport like an animal for what felt like weeks, she is back safe in the Temple. She’s been back for several days. But she can’t get used to the fact that there are no Trandoshans here, watching her, waiting for her to slip up and let her guard down so they can slaughter her. Every corner she turns, every unlit space in the massive Temple makes her heart beat faster, her chest tighten. She tries to remind herself that she isn’t on Wasskah, this isn’t some dense jungle where those monsters could pop out of nowhere, but her body still seizes up whenever someone approaches her from behind or fails to announce their presence.

It’s close to three in the morning and Ahsoka finds herself in one of the Temple training gyms after another unsuccessful attempt to sleep through the night. Not only does she toss and turn for hours, fear constricting her throat, but if she ever actually manages to drift off from pure exhaustion it’s always quickly interrupted by nightmares replaying the ordeal. She wakes in a cold sweat, trying to command herself to just _breathe_ but the air is barely there and she wants to cry but she can’t, the tears won’t come, just the panic and traumatic flashbacks that won’t quit circling in her brain.

She knows Anakin has been preparing for a major mission and is tired from the stress and time of all the meetings and planning they’ve been doing. That might also be to her benefit, because he’s too tired to hear her get up and leave their quarters or to be woken up by her fear through their training bond. Besides, he had probably gotten some gray hairs from worry during the time she’d been missing; the man needed to rest. He’ll just fret more about her if he knew she was still having nightmares.

Ahsoka sits on the mat, sipping caf, remembering that it’s the only thing she’s consumed besides water in at least twenty-four hours. Thinks about the first meal back at the Temple after she returned, how just looking at her tray made her stomach turn. She couldn’t explain it—she’d been practically starving on Wasskah, anyways, and knew her master was concerned about her weight when she got back—but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. She felt sick and anxious and still in _survive, run, they’re coming_ mode. She couldn’t relax or focus enough to do much more than drink a little bit of water and push things around on her plate silently. She could feel Anakin’s worry as he studied her; she knew he blamed himself for her kidnapping, for not being able to find her sooner, for her current physical and emotional state.

It is probably Anakin Skywalker’s best and worst personality trait rolled into one, she thinks, how intensely he cares for his friends and how deeply he feels emotions and the lengths he will go to in order to protect them. She can’t recall a mission going south or an injury she’d gotten where he _didn’t_ blame himself in some way, or at least feel like he could have done more to protect her or the troops. It both frustrates her and makes her feel safe. She knows he’ll do just about anything to protect her, but sometimes that scares her.

She tries to meditate, but her thoughts rotate too quickly in her mind and she can’t close her eyes for fear that something will come after her, that she’ll be hunted again. Never had she felt so vulnerable, trapped and degraded as she did on that kriffing Trandoshan moon. She didn’t have her men, her master, her lightsabers, comms, or anything else to assist or comfort her. Of course, she had Anakin’s training—without which she’d surely be dead—and while that helped her survive it did not ease the deeply etched trauma that place had instilled in her. It hadn’t prevented Kalifa from being shot, from dying in Ahsoka’s arms. It hadn’t kept her from nearly being killed herself on the ship, the Trandoshan’s enormous hands wrapped around her throat, throwing her across the room with crippling force. The bruises lining her body ache at the memory.

Ahsoka hasn’t even been able to bring herself to have a normal conversation with her men. She’d missed them so much, yet when Rex tried to cheer her up and talk with her she felt paralyzed, the words not really coming, because how could she explain all that happened and the things she was feeling, how she felt like a completely different person and she didn’t know how to get her old self back? She’d cut him off, ignoring the look of confusion and slight hurt in his eyes, telling him they’d have to catch up later. Rex was one of her closest friends; they _always_ caught up after missions, whether it was sitting on the floor of the barracks or down at 79’s with the boys.

The old Ahsoka would have bounced back relatively quickly from a rough mission. In the very least she would feel comfortable telling Anakin how she was doing, why she was upset. Ask him to meditate with her or something that would’ve calmed her down. The Citadel, Mortis, Geonosis—those were missions she still had the occasional nightmare about and had definitely shaken her, but she hadn’t been _alone_ on any of those. Her Master had been there, had seen them, had understood the things she woke up in the middle of the night screaming about. So she didn’t need to explain, to communicate her experience…but now, nobody really understood what went down on Wasskah, and the idea of reliving it…

Before she knows it she’s punching the _shit_ out of a hanging sandbag, trying to banish the images, like maybe if she hits hard enough the trauma will go away. Or if she trains hard enough she’ll never be caught off guard again, never be snuck up on and kidnapped like a youngling. She _refuses_ to be vulnerable again, she will _not_ be taken advantage of. She wants to hunt down every Trandoshan in the galaxy and gut them with her lightsabers. Vaguely, as she breathes heavier, she registers that it is definitely _not_ a Jedi-like thought. But honestly, Jedi shouldn’t have to experience things like they do. They weren’t made for war; Ahsoka had grown up training for peace, the idea that _the Jedi are peacemakers_ drilled into her, and yet the minute she became a Padawan she was thrust into war at barely fourteen. War is all she’s known as a Jedi, constant battles and missions and sieges with a few moments of peace in between.

And she is tired of it.

Tired of constantly wondering if it will be her or Anakin’s last battle, if one of them will lose the other in a hail of blaster fire or stray bomb or a Sith lightsaber. How many men they will lose. If it will be Rex or Fives’ last battle. It’s so much more about surviving and destroying the enemy, rarely about actually _maintaining_ or negotiating peace. How many successful peace negotiations has Ahsoka witnessed? She has a hard time bringing any to mind.

She continues pummeling the sandbag, knuckles aching, thinking about those kriffing Trandoshans and all the ugly things she wants to do to them. It doesn’t do much to ease the tension in her shoulders, the constriction in her lungs. She swears, loudly, angrily. What is _wrong_ with her?

The door to the gym creaks behind her, and Ahsoka whirls around like a cornered animal, terrified at the sudden noise. But it isn’t a Trandoshan, she realizes as her heart threatens to pound right out of her chest. It’s her master, rubbing sleep from his eyes, regarding her with concern and slight confusion.

“Ahsoka,” he says, sounding relieved. “I—sorry, I was just making sure you were alright. I woke up and you were gone.”

Her voice sounds comes out hoarse, signaling the lack of use over the past few days. “I’m…fine. Couldn’t sleep.” She’s surprised at how emotionless the tone is, especially given that she feels like she can barely breathe right now.

Anakin frowns, shuts the door behind him. “What’s going on, Snips?”

Ahsoka is trying so hard to just _breathe_ but her breaths just keep coming quicker and quicker and her head pounds. She sinks against the wall, feeling weak, trying to find the words. “I just—I can’t _sleep_ and I can’t karking relax and I keep thinking one of those _things_ is gonna be right behind me hunting me, and—” She’s gasping for breath now and it _hurts_ and she just wants it to be over but she cannot quell the panic.

Anakin is at her side in seconds, hand on her shoulder, rubbing her back. “Breathe, Snips, breathe,” he’s commanding her. “You need to calm down. It’s okay. You’re safe here. I got you.”

“I don’t _feel_ safe,” she cries, the tears coming against her will. “I see them everywhere I go. I feel like I’m back there again.”

“You’re not,” he says gently, and she can hear the pain in his voice. “You escaped. They’re dead. You never have to go back there again.”

“I feel like I am. I can’t make them stop, the visions and the dreams and feeling so afraid.”

Ahsoka’s breaths come in shudders, now, but slowly begin to ease away from the panic. She buries her head in her arms, curling up like a child, willing it all to stop. She feels Anakin send a wave of _calm_ through the training bond, and a few of her muscles relax.

“You…” she says weakly, stifling another sob. “You weren’t there. I was so alone.” It isn’t so much of a blame statement, but an expression of the sheer loneliness and terror she felt in that jungle.

His arm tightens around her shoulders. “I know, my Padawan. I wish so badly I could have been there. I wish I could’ve protected you from being taken in the first place. I’m so, so sorry. That I wasn’t there. That I didn’t get to you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” she admits, her voice small. “I know you did your best. It’s…it’s not your fault.” He scoffs and she knows that _of course he still blames himself, he always does._

“It’s okay to fall apart a little, Ahsoka. You don’t have to act like things don’t mess with you. I can’t begin to imagine what it felt like being stuck there, being…hunted,” and he says this word with such disgust it almost makes her flinch because she can _feel_ his anger towards them, “but I can’t be more thankful you survived and you’re here now.”

Anakin takes her hand and frowns at her scraped knuckles, the bruises already starting to form. “You need to take better care of yourself, my Padawan,” he teases.

Ahsoka nods, nearly rolling her eyes at his classic concern over her. Like a mother hen, really. She imagines how he probably stayed up for a week straight just trying to find her when she disappeared. She knows he would have scoured the galaxy for however long it took to find her. She manages a very small, nearly imperceptible smile and she leans her head on his shoulder, finally letting her shoulders relax, her hands unclench.

They sit there in silence for what seems like hours, and at last Ahsoka can breathe, feels a lot safer with Anakin’s arm around her. Warm and protected. He’s here—her Master, practically her family ( _pretty much the only family she has,_ she realizes) and she is safe to let her guard down. _I’m safe, I’m safe, Skyguy’s got me._

Her eyes droop a little bit and she slumps into Anakin, the exhaustion of sleepless nights finally catching up with her now that her adrenaline has stopped pumping.

“I think we’d better get you back in bed, Snips, don’t ya think?” He asks her softly.

“Mmm…tired,” she mumbles in agreement, and he chuckles at that, helping her gently to her feet. They circle back through the familiar hallways, his arm around her both protectively and to support her as she half-sleepwalks with him back to their quarters. The hallways are dark and empty, and just a few hours ago this would’ve sent waves of anxiety through her. But now, with her Master by her side, it hardly bothers her. She knows she is safe.

Anakin settles her back in bed and sits at the table fiddling with mechanical parts until she falls asleep. She doesn’t wake with a start from the nightmares; she sleeps soundly till morning, for the first time in a long, long while.

  


  


  


  


  


  



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